


Perhaps

by FreakCityPrincess



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: A fic to suit your every mood, Accidental Voyeurism, Ar'alani is badass we stan, Chiss Have More Fun, Chiss bros as little kids, Chiss bros as meddlesome teens, Do i have any regrets?, Eli and Thrass bitchin about Thrawn over a drink, Fanart, Fanart with ficlets, Fluff, Gen, Give Faro A Raise, Humour, Just a whole lot of Thrawn and Thrass being Siblings TM, M/M, None whatsover, Okay by this point this fic has evolved into a baby thrawn and thrass fic, Taking prompts!, The adventures of tiny thrawn and thrass, Thrass is the best big brother, Thrawn as a kid was a handful, Thrawn being terrible at disguises, Unwinding after work, absurdity, ch 5 is angst, lots of love for the chiss bros, yes it's an odd selection, ysalamiri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21874729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakCityPrincess/pseuds/FreakCityPrincess
Summary: So what do Thrawn and the rest of his clique get up to when they're not fighting a rebellion or tracking down smugglers?Alternatively: A collection of fanart and fics in which Karyn Faro is not paid enough, Eli Vanto is frustrated in more ways than one, Admiral Ar'alani is surprised by her lack of grey hairs, Thrass is sometimes supportive and sometimes cheesed off, and Ezra Bridger didn't sign up for any of it.
Relationships: Ar'alani & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thrass | Mitth'ras'safis & Eli Vanto, Thrass | Mitth'ras'safis & Ezra Bridger, Thrass | Mitth'ras'safis & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 65
Kudos: 164





	1. Yellow

"Absolutely not." 

Eli had never seen Thrawn actually stop in his tracks to the imaginary sound of a scratch record, but the Commodore's reaction to Captain Faro's bold disagreement almost came close. 

"Please explain your reservations, Captain," said Thrawn, smoothly, like the lapse had never happened. Despite Eli's own reservations about Thrawn's getup, he couldn't help feeling a stab of burning admiration. Here was one of the many things he'd come to love about Thrawn; his easy willingness to take feedback, his regard for his crew's thoughts and opinions and experience. 

_Not love,_ he corrected himself, flushing lightly underneath his own tinted glasses. _Respect. That's all._

Captain Faro drew herself to her full height which, compared to Thrawn, wasn't much. But she did gain a minuscule gap over Eli. 

"Your disguise will almost certainly allow you to pass off as a Pantoran, Commodore, but it will attract unwanted attention for other reasons." 

Eli bit his lip, feeling a grin coming on. She really was going to say it, wasn't she? 

"What reasons, Captain?" 

Faro held Thrawn's gaze through his green tinted glasses. 

"With all due respect, sir, these clothes are simply ugly. People are going to stare because the fashion choice is...unconventional." 

Eli tried and failed not to snort. He was definitely going to get to know Faro a little better after this.

Thrawn appeared to contemplate her answer.

"What are your parameters for judging that this disguise is aesthetically unappealing to an extent that would draw attention?" 

The Captain didn't sigh, that would've been unprofessional, but Eli read the same exasperation in her body language. 

"Yellow is...not a colour that works for a lot of people." Very diplomatically put. Although, in Eli's opinion, Thrawn would look good in anything. And he'd look really good in nothing. Eli mentally shook himself, forcing those thoughts to a stop. _Kriffing hell, Vanto, get a grip!_

Thankfully, Thrawn was well-versed in reading human microexpressions enough that he understood what Faro was getting at without having to ask for clarifications. 

"I understand your concern, Commodore. I will return to my quarters and amend this element of my disguise." The Chiss spared Eli a tilt of his head. "Ensign Vanto, are you dissatisfied with your own disguise?" 

_I'm dissatisfied we're wearing clothes at all- no, Eli, stop it!_

"No, sir." And it was true; the faded green trenchcoat he wore over a shabby blue shirt and black pants was nowhere near as atrocious at Thrawn's yellow trenchcoat. 

"Good. I will meet you soon, Captain, Ensign." 

Eli and Faro watched him go, carrying himself with all of his usual dignified poise. Eli marveled at how regal he still managed to look in such godawful clothing; really, either Thrawn had a problem or _he_ had a _problem,_ or the Chiss had had a royal upbringing. Eli somehow didn't think it was the latter. 

Beside him, Faro slumped her shoulders ever so slightly. 

"I really hope I don't have to do this every time the Commodore insists on going undercover."

Eli shook his head. "Don't expect you won't have to, Captain."


	2. Bitchin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrass does unsolicited wingman work for his brother.

Of course Thrawn hadn't told him he had a brother. 

Eli had initially been a tad miffed, because this was certainly a detail he regarded as significant enough to have come up at least a few times over the course of the year Thrawn had been teaching him everything he needed to know to integrate into Chiss society. The fact that it hadn't even appeared in conversation by chance couldn't be by accident. His second thought after learning about the existence of Mitth'ras'safis was that the brothers had bad blood between them. Why else would Thrawn deliberately refuse to acknowledge him? 

When the _Steadfast_ made a stop on Csilla after months spent off the ground, Thrass had somehow known about him and asked Ar'alani to release him from his duties for a day so they could get acquainted. Eli felt nervous at the prospect of meeting someone who probably hated Thrawn, but that was just an assumption, and, well, he'd been dealing with those kind of people for ten years now. He knew how to handle them. 

But Thrass had been nothing like he'd expected. The Chiss had greeted him genuinely and warmly, pulling out all the stops on hospitality to make him feel comfortable in his wing of the Mitth family home. The conversation flowed easily. For nearly an hour they talked about the CDF and Csilla, and Eli learnt a great deal more than any of the written material he'd procured. Eventually, he even felt comfortable enough to bring up that Thrawn hadn't prepared him for this. 

"I cannot say I find it surprising he never told you about me," Thrass commented with a good-natured sigh. "He is rather embarrassed by my protectiveness. In part, I assume it was some kind of test for you." 

Eli stopped in his tracks, halfway though a hot beverage that was worlds better than anything they had on the _Steadfast._

"Thrawn is embarrassed by something?" 

Thrass laughed, a soft, tinkling sound that Eli had never heard from his brother. He tamped down the quell of longing that came with that thought. 

"Sometimes I'm rather embarrassed about it myself. But it is instinctive, you see. My brother has such an affinity for attracting trouble that I never feel at ease to stand by and watch." A softer look, something like sadness, crossed his eyes for a brief moment. If Eli hadn't had years of practice from trying to read Thrawn, he wouldn't have noticed. "I wish I could do more than rely on the occasional report from Admiral Ar'alani to see how he is faring now." 

"Same," murmured Eli, before he realised his slip. 

Thrass tilted his head at him, his eyes narrowing calculatingly in the sudden heavy silence. Eli felt his throat go dry. 

That scrutinsing look was too familiar. And it was an unsettling shift, when for the past hour Thrass had worn a warm smile that was nowhere in sight now. 

"Correct me if I'm mistaken, Lieutenant Vanto," said Thrass quietly. "But Thrawn didn't send any ordinary Imperial officer to the Ascendancy, did he?" 

Eli didn't hold his gaze, instead leaning forward slightly to place his drink on the intricate wooden table. 

"What do you consider an ordinary Imperial officer, Syndic?" 

Thrass' eyes were a burning, brilliant red, the way Thrawn's looked when he was focused on something so completely that the rest of the galaxy faded away. 

Then Thrass turned from him, and Eli could tangibly feel the weight of his gaze lift off. 

"My brother would not send someone he didn't hold in the highest regard, and someone he didn't trust implicitly. I can tell what you are to him. The question, Lieutenant, is what my brother means to _you._ "

To say Eli was thrown off by the casually-delivered statement would be a grave understatement. 

It took him three attempts to find his voice, and by then his face felt heated, and _damn_ the Chiss and their infrared vision. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

Thrass shrugged, as if this turn of conversation wasn't spinning Eli's world on its axis. 

"I don't mean to intimidate you, Lieutenant, and I certainly will not judge. Of all the people Thrawn has ever taken an interest in, I have enough evidence to support that you are the one he's most cared for. I simply wish to assess why. And I would like us to become friends." 

Eli was at a complete loss for words, but the silence was stretching; he needed to say _something_. 

"I don't...think I follow, Syndic." 

"You are intelligent, Lieutenant Vanto. You are understanding my words correctly." 

Eli flet a lump in his throat, swallowed around it. He hadn't expected this. This...confrontation. The revelation that Thrawn had feelings for him? Or was that just what _Thrass_ thought, being overprotective, and it had no real merit to it? 

Was he really going to talk about this with a Chiss he'd just met? 

"I'm not sure you're right about that," said Eli, hastily but boldly. An edge of frustration was in his voice, and muted anger, but that was good. He wasn't going to be talked into a corner. "Thrawn has never said anything, or given any indication of it. He was my commanding officer, and my friend; and he's never guided me wrongly, so if he asks me to be a representative to the Ascendancy, then I will listen. I trust him not to screw me over. That's all." 

Thrass looked at him appraisingly. Eli held his own. Eventually, the Chiss broke off with a small smile. 

"That is all I needed to hear," said Thrass, and didn't elaborate. He gestured at the bot of brew balanced perfectly on the short table before them. "Please, help yourself, Eli Vanto. The drinks reserved for our ships are not very good. I wish not to begrudge you this chance." 

Eli stared, long and hard, but the Chiss looked perfectly happy to pretend the last two minutes of conversation hadn't happened. He carefully reached for the pot with a nod of thanks. 

So started a peculiar friendship, even stranger to Eli than the bond he'd first forged with Thrawn, because Thrass always seemed to know exactly how to get him to talk, and how to lead and hand over a conversation. It was a politician's skill, a way with diplomacy that Thrawn didn't have, yet Eli never felt like he was being baited. Thrass really did want what he'd plainly stated the first time: for them to be friends. 

Over the course of the following year, Eli was stationed on Csilla twice. Both times Thrass had hosted him, and it wasn't unwelcome to have a friend on the ground when most of his crewmates were still wary of him. Thrawn's brother even gave him the occasional holo-call when he was away, checking in on how he was doing. Eli wondered if Thrawn had asked this of him, or if he was doing it for Thrawn's sake anyway, because there was little else he could do from so far away. 

But the next time he met Thrass in person was different. Different, because _Eli_ felt different. They'd just arrived in Chiss space after the Grysk incident. After he'd met Thrawn again, and barely a word had passed between them. He was angry, exhausted and _hurt,_ and the first thing he'd done when finally back in his own quarters was fire off a written message to Thrass. 

_Touching down soon. Need a drink._

The _Steadfast_ , barely holding its superstructure together, touched down on the Chiss homeworld a day later. 

Thrass greeted him at the shipyard itself. Eli blanched when he saw him; the Syndic, for the first time out of his formal maroon robes and neatly braided hair, wore a simple white tunic and trousers with an elegant jacket of his house colours. His hair was tied back low behind his head. 

"Good evening," said the Syndic. "You said in your message that you wanted a drink?" 

Eli decided impulsively that Thrass was his favourite Chiss. 

This was how they wound up in a rather affluent-looking bar, tucked away in a private corner that the chaotic string music being played by the live band didn't reach. Eli had never been to such a fancy bar in all his life, but their space was secluded, and it was all he needed at the moment. Thrass got him something strong and they drank some before talking. Eli was grateful. 

"I am sorry for my brother's actions," the Chiss said, his tone shifting to something dry, weary. "Truly, Eli. I'd like to think he was preoccupied, but it is not my place to make excuses for him. For this, he must apologize himself."

Eli exhaled loudly through his nose wanting nothing more than to bury his face in the table. "I don't know, Thrass. I don't want an apology. I just...I want an explanation. Has he forgotten me already?" 

"I am sure that is not the case," said Thrass, although he didn't sound confident enough in his claim. Smooth, sure, but Eli could tell the difference by now. "My brother would not make ambassador of a person he did not implicitly trust and consider a friend." 

Eli snorted. "How good is he, really, at _keeping_ friendships?"

Thrass was silent for a moment. 

"He has never had many friends to begin with," the Syndic finally stated, slowly. "He never trusted easily or grew closer to someone than was strictly necessary. Which is why you intrigued me at the beginning, Eli." 

Eli pursued his lips, wondering at that first conversation of theirs that they'd never again talked about. 

"You were surprised he had a friend?" 

"I was surprised by his regard for that friend." Thrass paused, and Eli could feel his hesitance at whatever he was about to say next. Then, confirming his suspicions, Thrass lowered his voice. Eli tended, getting the feeling he was about to be told something he almost didn't have a right to know. 

"There was someone, once, a long time ago. Thrawn allowed himself to get attached." Thrass took a long draft of his drink. "And it did not end well. After, he shut out everyone, myself included. Even more than usual." 

Eli swallowed around something thick and heavy in his throat. 

"Now you come along," said Thrass. "And he is very much the same way, something I did not expect to ever see again. Thrawn sends few messages home, but to tell me about you, he did." 

Eli blinked, a sense of unreality creeping over him. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. This had to be a dream. Surely Thrass wasn't telling him…? 

Exactly what Thrass had told him before, except with apparent evidence. 

"I would not breach this subject with you if Thrawn hadn't been absolutely certain that you returned his affections," said Thrass, his gaze piercing. "And the reason you are hearing this from me, and not him, is twofold. Firstly, after the previous experience, he isn't willing to actively acknowledge his attachment. Secondly, and most importantly," Thrass smiled, a tad slyly. "That is what a brother does, is it not? Pass on the message at the right time, because surely by the time Thrawn comes around to doing it himself, it will be too late." 

If Eli had been drinking, he would've choked on his drink. As it was, a strangled sound escaped him, and his cheeks burned without his permission. 

"It is also the Chiss tradition that a _responsible adult_ of the same family screens the one the other wishes to court. And you have my full approval, Eli." 

"Okay," Eli choked out. "Okay, _hang on_. This is...a lot to take in." 

"I will wait," assured Thrass patiently. 

"Uh." He swallowed. "So. I've known Thrawn for ten years. How long has he…?" 

Thrass gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "I am not sure. I only received the message shortly before your departure for the Ascendancy." 

Eli chugged down what was left of his drink all in one go. It left him feeling lightheaded, but it wasn't like he wasn't feeling lightheaded anyway. 

"Kriff," muttered Eli, rubbing his temples roughly. "Kriffing hell, Thrass, you couldn't have told me sooner? I was on the same _ship_ as Thrawn, I don't know when that'll happen again, I could've _said_ something."

"I did tell you before," Thrass said mildly.

"That wasn't even half of it!" 

"I apologize," said Thrass. "But it wouldn't have been appropriate at the time." 

"Yeah, I know." Eli groaned. "Force, my existence is a _trainwreck_."

"What is a trainwreck?" asked Thrass curiously.

Eli laughed. "It just means everything is messed up. I find out that the man I've loved for _ages_ actually wants me back, but days after the last time I'll see him in Force knows how long?" 

"It is not ideal," admitted Thrass. "However, there are other means of getting the message across." 

Eli looked up sharply, and his brain drew a connection he should've seen a long time ago. Thrass mentioned a message. He knew how to get _messages_ across to Thrawn. 

The Syndic drew out a small handheld communication device, spherically shaped, very unlike anything he'd seen in Imperial space. He placed it on the table between them. 

"I have set up a secure frequency on this comm," said Thrass. "It is the same one I use to communicate with him when I do. It is only meant for emergencies, but coming from you, I'm sure he wouldn't mind." 

"You give yourself too little credit," said Eli, somewhat breathlessly. His hand closed over the metal sphere like a lifeline. "Thank you."

"A favour for a friend is never a task," said Thrass, a smile touching his eyes. "Would you like me to leave you to it, then?"

Eli flushed slightly. Was his eagerness so obvious? 

"Thrawn can wait," he said, a little petulantly. He had, after all, made Eli wait, during the Grysk affair, for a few impersonal words. "I think we both need more drinks in our systems. Are Syndics allowed to get absolutely shitfaced?" 

Thrass blinked, puzzled. "Shitfaced?" 

Eli grinned, raising his empty glass. "I owe you big time, Thrass. Let me at least teach you a bit about Lysatran culture."

(Ar'alani sometimes joins them. Posh drinking places aren't for her, but she does find relaxation in bitching about Mitth'raw'nuruodo with people who understand her plight)


	3. Thrass wishes he hadn't seen that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just genuinely love writing Thrass the overprotective big brother.
> 
> note: this is not connected to the previous chapter.

Mitth'ras'safis wouldn't call the memories ones of _fondness_ , exactly, but they were precious memories nonetheless. As children they'd had more freedom, and no one would object if they spent an entire day exploring the various corners of the Mitth family estate on Copero. 

The other estate, on Naporar, had more in the way of natural beauty with its expanse of garden and greenery, but there was a different kind of beauty in the steel-walled catacombs, and the boundless corridors adorned with family trinkets of honour and artistry. Away from the main building that housed spacious living and guest quarters, there were several other buildings, well-preserved but uninhabited, many housing old ships in good condition and a few completely unoccupied. The Mitth enjoyed these spaces for solitude; steel walls were as good as gardens at the right time of day. 

The catacombs were also excellent hiding places, as Thrass had come to realise on the several occasions Thrawn had offended the wrong elder. It was still clear in his mind how his brother used to come running out of nowhere, snagging his arm and urgently informing him that they had someone to avoid. Usually, Thrawn's offenses were along the lines of listening to transmissions he wasn't authorized to, fascinated by the flow of tactics in a real battle happening far away, or studying the art in sacred chambers of the house, or training with weapons he wasn't of age to use. It was his own brand of mischief that Thrass had disapproved of greatly, if only because it inevitably involved both of them each time. 

Solitude was one thing in mind as he traversed a long and empty echoing passageway now. Ever since his brother had returned to the Ascendancy, after a dramatic rescue mission run by Eli Vanto alone with Thrass's patronage, his reintegration into Chiss society had more or less become Thrass's responsibility. The CDF had already promised him a position, but Thrawn had too many enemies on the ground to ignore. Chaf'ormb'inthrano, for example, who seemed to have made it his life purpose to arrest Thrawn for past transgressions, particularly a successful attempt to block the Fifth family from getting its hands on valuable spoils of war.

The mere thought of Chaf'ormb'inthrano was enough to put a scowl on his face, but his irritation didn't last long－ his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden sound that echoed off the walls. 

Thrass froze. It sound like a cry for help. Who could it be? What danger could they _possibly_ be in? 

There was another sound, muffled, by the same voice, one which Thrass couldn't satisfiably interpret. 

He determinedly followed the source to the best of his abilities, made more difficult by the fact that the hollow walls echoed in all directions. His pace slowed upon reaching an alcove made of steel and stone, beyond which lay a thick cover of shadow. 

Thrass moved silently to peer past the alcove. If anyone was in trouble, they were now worryingly silent－ 

Again, his thoughts were forced to a halt by the sound of voices. Except this time the sound was distinguishable, and he could tell it was a _laugh._

Thrass frowned. Who would be in danger and laughing? Perhaps he'd misread the situation, and it was a pair of squabbling children. But there were no children at home during this time of the day, and the last he had checked, only Thrawn was at home, expecting a visit from Vanto… 

Vanto, Thrass realised with a jolt of shock, whom the voice undoubtedly belonged to, who was indeed inside the shadowy alcove, and perched on his brother's lap. 

Thrawn was trailing purposeful kisses down the human's neck, his hands in... _barely_ _appropriate_ _places_ , and the human that Thrass had come to know and respect as an immensely valuable contributor to the CDF was making whimpering, pleasured sounds Thrass could never have imagined him making. 

Oh. 

_Oh._

Thrass averted his eyes, feeling his face burning. Should he clear his throat, make them aware of his presence? Warn them against such blatant displays in the future? Thrawn's reputation was already at stake, and Vanto's would be too if word of this got around… 

Thrawn caught his mouth in a bruising kiss, and Vanto moaned, low and loud enough for the walls again, grinding his hips into Thrawn's. Thrass watched with growing discomfort as his brother started working at the clasps of Vanto's trousers without even breaking the kiss. 

This was quite enough. 

Thrass pointedly cleared his throat, and it was almost comical how quickly they reacted. First, they both froze, and Thrass counted the second time he'd ever seen his brother hesitate so, before Vanto was scrambling away with stuttered apologies, doing up his pants with haste. Thrass wished he hadn't noticed how obviously _aroused_ the two of them were. He'd never been so uncomfortable in his life. 

Thrawn recovered fast, smoothing down the formal tunic he always wore these days because of the continuous visits he got from people of importance. Thrass fixed him with a glare, as if it was somehow his fault that he'd witnessed this charming interlude. 

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo," started Thrass stiffly. 

"Syndic," responded his brother coolly. 

The older Chiss flickered his gaze once, pointedly, in Vanto's direction. "What do you think you are doing?"

"My apologies," said Thrawn blandly. "I was explaining the history of these catacombs to Admiral Vanto. We were momentarily sidetracked."

Thrass snorted. Vanto looked like he wanted to bolt from the sheer embarrassment of this situation. _Momentarily sidetracked._ Thrass was sure that had he not intervened, what followed wouldn't have been _momentary_ in the slightest. 

"I can see that. You would do well to be more careful in the future, Thrawn. And you as well, Admiral." 

Vanto made a heroic effort to regain his usual composure. "Yes, Syndic." 

Thrass resisted the urge to sigh heavily. He was _tired._ He'd thought the combination of Thrawn and the estate catacombs had long ago ceased to give him headaches; he was obviously wrong, and he felt a headache coming on. 

But, recalling the number of sleepless nights Vanto had spent pouring over data to locate Thrawn, and how much more _relaxed_ his brother appeared in the human's presence, he couldn't begrudge them...whatever this was. 

In typical Wild Space fashion, a habit he'd picked up from Vanto himself, Thrass tossed Thrawn his set of house keys. His brother didn't miss, but a brief look of surprise registered in his festures nevertheless before they smoothed out into careful neutrality again. 

"Help yourselves to the _Hunting Hawk_ suites," he told them. "Make doubly sure you keep the main door locked. And _please_. Never mention this to me again." 

Thrass turned on his heel and walked away, refusing to linger and see their reactions. He had no use of those suites anyway, and that wing of the house was as private as it got. In any event, he would implement any course of action if it meant never having to witness that again.

At the very least, he could allow himself a private smile. His brother had never before used the catacombs for _that_ purpose most young men in the family did at a particular phase in life. 

Maybe Vanto was the one for Thrawn after all.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. (1) happy chiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the Headcanon Express and the Thrawn Thirst Train *train noises intensify*

Thrawn is tired of dealing with Palpatine and Vader's constant shit. After the events of Thrawn:Alliances, he took a nice, warm shower and followed his elaborate skincare routine. 

A hot shower and said skincare routine are the only things that never fail to make our boy smile. Also the thought of Eli doing well in life. 

Have some happy Chiss, you deserve it.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking prompts! Feel free to drop one in the comments, or say hi on tumblr (@hoofgirl), where I post more art.


	5. leave behind the winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In anticipation of the Ascendancy trilogy (which we aren't getting till October, SMH), have a one shot and drawing of young Thrawn. 
> 
> Some Ezra Bridger parallels may be forthcoming...

_ The First Winter is when you are born.  _

_ The Second is when you are named.  _

_ Those who serve the Ascendancy with honour and fidelity will have both.  _

  
  


He remembers standing at the very edge of a snow-covered cliff, gazing not at the frigid landscape or the soft lines of the mountains on the horizon but at the stars, even in broad daylight. He pictured himself at the helm of a ship, pictured battles and fires and challenges and victories, painting with his mind pictures he could never create with his two hands. These moments were not few and far between, and he remembers his brother's stern orders to step back from the edge in case the snow shifted. 

Thrawn didn't care much for grandeur－indeed, he preferred simplicity in a work of art－ but running a hand lightly over the dashboard frame and taking in the features boasted by a warship not yet mass-produced within the Ascendancy, he allowed himself to reconsider. 

His first command. A great honour, and responsibility, for one so young. 

It was a simple enough first mission as the new Captain of the freshly-minted  _ Springhawk,  _ and Thrawn had been part of so much more while he'd served under another, but the gravity of the moment threatened to bring back a young boy who'd spent far too long gazing at the stars above Csilla. 

"Is everything to your liking, Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo?" came a familiar voice from behind him, and Thrawn turned partly sideways to nod in greeting. 

"My personal preferences are irrelevant."

Thrass shook his head, though the fond smile didn't leave his eyes. "I can read your excitement, brother. This is an accomplishment that pleases you as much as it does me." 

No one manning their stations on the bridge was paying attention to the visiting Syndic, busy with the meticulous instructions for preparation that Thrawn had given them. If it was a simple mission to begin with, he would see to maximizing the outcome beyond the expected level. 

"You are correct," conceded Thrawn, turning back to the viewport, a slight smile tugging at his own lips. "But there is more I can do for the Ascendancy, and I will, in time. It is early to celebrate."

Thrass snorted, a habit most unbecoming of a House Syndic. "I can already see where you're headed, Thrawn. I might as well celebrate now. Soon, all of the Ascendancy will be joining me in my sentiment." 

Thrawn's gaze drifted over the expanse of stars outside Copero base's floating hangar. Here, familiar space, traversed a thousand times over generations, while beyond, uncharted stars, harboring known and unknown threats and allies of the Chiss. 

"You believe that the Vong will turn on us?" 

"I know they will," said Thrass quietly, his eyes dimming. "Because  _ you  _ are certain of it. When that time comes, I know you will lead us out of their grasp." 

"Perhaps," said Thrawn. "Perhaps not."

Thrass's brow furrowed in a very familiar worry, but there was no reproaching, not today. He placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke for only him to hear. 

"Be careful, Thrawn." 

"I only take calculated risks." 

Thrass's grip tightened. "That's what I'm afraid of. The Vong, the Vagaari, the Grysk－ they're all out there. I know you are more than capable, but…" 

"You are used to being nearby. I know." 

Thrass laughed. "I can recall at least fifty times you would have hurt yourself if I hadn't been watching." 

Thrawn raised a delicate eyebrow. "That is most definitely an exaggeration."

"I assure you it is most definitely not. You have made my duties as an older sibling far more difficult than our parents promised they would be." A shadow crossed over his face. "They would be proud of you, Thrawn."

Thrawn didn't look back at him. "Prouder still when I avenge them." 

Thrass exhaled heavily. "I know. I know, Thrawn, and the day will come when the Ascendancy decides to retaliate, but you can't take that path now." 

"There is nothing to concern yourself with," said Thrawn coolly. "I will only take that path when the time is right. And now, brother, we must be on our way." 

Thrass didn't dwell on his brother's words. He knew it would only haunt him later, when Thrawn was far out of his reach, cutting his actions perilously close to the edge of what the Ascendancy seemed acceptable. 

"May warrior's fortune smile on your efforts," said Thrass, before he took one last, long look at Commander Thrawn, whom he'd known since his first winter, and headed back down the bridge. 

Thrawn didn't call after him. But he missed the last look his brother gave him, his gaze not breaking until the doors hissed shut behind Thrass. 

The stars were somehow dimmer now. But they still held the same promises. 

"Set a course for the Yvtar system," ordered Thrawn. "And may warrior's fortune smile on our efforts." 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He SMOL
> 
> *sobbing*


	6. In which smol!Thrawn makes terrible decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE BABY CHISS

Thrass made his way quietly and carefully down the ancient staircase that flowed into the ground floor of the Mitth family home. Two years of living under this roof had taught him how to be quiet and how to get away with some small amount of mischief to break the monotony that was life in a ruling family household. 

The matron had last seen him in the study upstairs, and she'd no doubt gone to sleep thinking that at least one of the brothers was interested in an education. Worked for Thrass. Being sixteen years old and close to his Rite of Passage ceremony, the daily regimen imposed on him was far stricter than that forced upon Thrawn, and as the fateful day grew ever closer, the matron had let Thrawn escape her attention almost entirely. Thrass found him under the grand staircase where he'd established a workstation surrounded by art history journals and flight recorder logs. 

"Thrawn," Thrass hissed, ducking into the space his brother had cultivated for himself. "This is the first chance I'm getting all week. Come." 

Thrawn looked up from where his nose had been buried in one of his favourite books, a work called _Alien Cultures For Young Chiss._

"It's late," said Thrawn, sparing him the briefest glance before going right back to his reading. "You'll fall sick." 

Thrass growled, crossing his arms impatiently. It was at times like this that he sorely regretted teaching his little brother how to read. "The water is heated. I'm not going to fall sick. Come on, I can't go alone." 

Thrawn flipped the page. "Why not?"

"Because if I'm caught out there alone it'll be suspicious," Thrass pointed out. "I thought you were some kind of genius. Isn't it obvious?"

Thrawn childishly lifted one of the heavy sides of the book up and blocked his face from view. "No." 

"You're the only one who's allowed to have any fun these days. You're my excuse. The matron won't be upset with me if I say I'm only out there because you insisted."

"And does that not shift the blame onto me?" 

"No, Thrawn, the matron _loves_ you, because you're always kriffing reading. Please?" 

Thrawn sighed, heavily, before gently setting the hardcover down. He didn't meet Thrass's eyes as he muttered, "I can't." 

Thrass's expression went from irritated to concerned in a heartbeat. Something was wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong. 

"Are you alright?" 

"I am not well," lied Thrawn smoothly, and Thrass instantly knew it was a lie, because Thrawn was far less gifted in the art of lying than he himself was. 

But something was bothering him, and Thrass nudged him gently to be allowed some room to sit. 

"Thrawn, talk to me. Something's bothering you." 

His brother's red eyes were making a heroic effort to avoid his own, and his face was set in a scowl, but Thrass didn't miss the slight quiver in his lips or the worry in those eyes. It looked like...embarrassment? Fear? Shame? All of those things. 

"Hey." 

Thrass stiffened in surprise when Thrawn suddenly hugged him, burying his face in his shoulder. But years of experience dealing with far worse situations when they'd been alone and without a home hadn't deserted him, and he reflexively knew to run a comforting hand up and down the younger boy's back until he came back to himself. 

Finally, Thrawn pulled back, but he didn't get far. His eyes were glowing more than usual when he quietly said, "You can't tell anyone."

"I won't," Thrass promised. "Whatever it is, we'll sort it out together." 

Thrawn paused briefly, as if debating one final time whether to tell him or not, before giving in. Without looking at Thrass, he lifted up the edge of his shirt from the bottom. 

Thrass startled. There, in dark black and red ink on his ten-year-old brother's cerulean skin, was a stylistic rendition of _The Redemption_ , a painting of a prowling, fearsome creature from Chiss legend that Thrass knew was among his brother's favourite pieces. 

Before he could say anything, Thrawn burst into a rapid-fire explanation. 

"I didn't know it was going to be so visible or so big and I asked for a subtle one but the artist said he couldn't recreate the work without a decent scale and I consented to it and I told him I was unadopted so he wouldn't call the matron and I...I didn't think it would be..."

"Calm down," said Thrass softly, tugging his shirt back down to cover the prominent tattoo again. His mind was reeling with the fact that his _ten-year-old_ brother had actually had the audacity to get a kriffing _tattoo_ , and that some idiot artist had actually _allowed_ it, and if the matron found out she was going to _kill them_ and how the hell was his heart still beating? Besides, children of ruling families were traditionally allowed to mark their bodies for the first time only after a successful Rite of Passage, and even _that_ was if their parents gave them their blessing. Long story short, unless you were some kind of war veteran or Aristorca, you had to have a very good reason to bear a tattoo that wasn't just a declaration of loyalty to your House. "This is bad, and I don't know what on Csilla's nine moons compelled you to do this, but I promised you we'd figure it out, didn't I?"

Thrawn sniffled. Thrass realized with a wince that he was dangerously close to tears, because when it got to _that_ point, all babysitting experience completely deserted him. 

"The artist you went to. Did he have any equipment for tattoo removal?" 

"I don't know," said Thrawn. "Can...it be done?" 

"Well." Thrass grimaced. From what he'd heard, tattoo removal was an extremely painful process, and considering the sheer kriffing _size_ of that thing, he didn't even want to think about it. As stubborn and brave as Thrawn acted half the time, he was still a child, still hurting after the Vagaari strike on a remote Chiss base that had killed both their parents, and Thrass hated to see him cry. "Maybe. But I don't think it's our best option." 

"Why not?" 

"Because..." Thrass trailed off. "It's painful. And expensive. How did you even afford that? And didn't it hurt?" 

"It hurt," admitted Thrawn, shrinking a little. "And...I saved my allowance. From the past few months.

"I'm not even going to think about the fact that this was an idea you had time to think about," muttered Thrass. He stood up. "Come on, I think I know something that can help." 

Thrawn's eyes widened. "To remove it?"

"Eh, no." Thrass pulled him along. "But you'll feel better. We can figure this out tomorrow when we're both not sleep-deprived, okay?"

Thrawn nodded slowly. 

Thrass lead him to the house kitchens, one of the only places he hadn't been barred from yet because of his studies. 

"Stay here." 

"What are you doing?" 

Thrass reached for the top shelf where he hid his personal stock of snacks bought with his own allowance. He'd never offered Thrawn anything from his stash because he'd assumed his brother was using _his_ allowance in pretty much the same manner, but apparently, he was dead wrong. 

"What is that?" 

"Chocolate caf," replied Thrass, turning on the heating block. He dumped a good half of the container's contents into a cylinder for mixing, knowing they _both_ needed a good sugar rush tonight. 

Thrawn watched him work with open curiosity, and Thrass had to fight back a smile. He was about to be even more spellbound in about five minutes. 

He was. After the first sip, Thrawn stared at the mug in his hands as if it was a gift from the celestial stratosphere. 

"It's...hot," he said, wrapping his hands all the way around the mug as if enjoying its warmth. "I should wait. I don't want to burn my tongue."

Thrass snorted in disbelief. "You're smart enough to be that careful but _not_ enough to not run off and get a tattoo?" 

Thrawn kicked him lightly under the table. He laughed. 

"You're the biggest troublemaker I've ever seen," said Thrass fondly. "You going to give me mini heart attacks even when we're older?" 

Thrawn smiled into his mug, the slightest flush touching his cheeks. "You can count on it, Thrass." 

Thrass rolled his eyes, but it was impossible to keep the fondness out of his expression. 

Privately, he hoped that certain things would never change. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
>  **Epilogue:**   
>  _
> 
> Mitth'ras'safis watched it all unfold with a swell of pride that undoubtedly crept onto his face despite his best efforts to appear aloof and observant, as all witnesses were meant to be. Thrawn passed every challenge thrown by the Rite of Passage with an air of glacial calm, star systems away from the others in the ring with him, who all betrayed their fear, trepidation or uncertainty at some point.
> 
> He gave up on keeping the smirk from his face entirely as Thrawn outsmarted the Challenge of the Mind with what looked like no effort at all, the first of all the participants, and the second Chiss to get it right only managed to do so a good twenty minutes later. The decorous thing for Thrass to do was wait until the others were finished...but in all fairness, none of them looked like they would solve the puzzle any time within the day, and he was going to lose it if he didn't catch up with Thrawn soon. He _needed_ to know. It had been _years._
> 
> He found his brother waiting outside the arena, in one of the shadowy alcoves, scrubbing the dirt off his hands with the aid of a wet towel. He looked up when he heard Thrass approach. 
> 
> "That was quite the show back there, little brother," he commented with a grin. "My Rite of Passage wasn't half as exciting. We had to do some sit-ups as our Challenge of Body. _I ask you._ " 
> 
> Thrawn bore the slightest uptick of his lips, the closest he got to a full-blown smile. Somehow, over the years, he'd only grown less openly expressive, although as far as Thrass could tell, the childlike sense of wonderment at the new and dangerous still clung to his brother like a second skin. 
> 
> "It appears our plan has reached completion." 
> 
> "Yes." Thrass smirked at the tattoo of blood red and bold blank ink that Thrawn now made no effort to hide. A symbol he'd earned the right to wear after cementing his place as a Trial-born. "It appears it has."


	7. nightmares are just inconvenient dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn has a nightmare. Thrass does what big brothers do best－ gives him a hard time about it, and comforts him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to the Twitter chiss gc for their encouragement :) Have some adorable Chiss kids, you deserve it.

Thrass was having a pleasant dream. In his dream, his debating team was winning the Academy tournament, and they'd just bulldozed all competition and were now in the finals. He was on the verge of delivering a killer speech, the subject of which he wasn't entirely certain of, but he _knew_ from the cowed looks on the other team's faces and the impressed expressions the judges wore that he had already won, and he was about to deliver what he was sure would be a _memorable_ opening line－

When a loud, childlike scream shattered his vision. 

Thrass sat bolt upright, the dream snatched from his grasp, and it took him all of five seconds to realize where he was and what had just happened. 

He sighed, letting his shoulders drop heavily. It was to be one of _those_ nights, then. He didn't mind at all, but it _had_ been a very nice dream. 

Thrass kicked off the soft burgundy comforter that kept his bed and its occupant warm on the coldest Csillan nights, slipping off the edge of his bed and hunting blindly for his footwear. 

He padded across the hallway to his brother's room, gently rapping at the door. 

"Come in," answered a shaky, quiet voice. 

Something inside him hurt at the inflection of that voice. _But,_ Thrass reminded himself, _we've been through much worse. The only danger he's ever in now is the imaginary kind posed by nightmares._

He peeked into Thrawn's room. 

"You alright there?" 

His younger brother was seated ramrod-straight against the massive headboard that made him look unnervingly small. He turned bright, distressed eyes in Thrass's direction, though he made an effort to hide it. 

"It was only...a dream," said Thrawn, stubbornness undercut by the way his speech wavered. "I am alright." 

Thrass frowned, letting himself in. He approached Thrawn on the bed, sitting beside the younger Chiss who, despite his silent protest, readily made room for him. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

Thrawn's grip tightened over his star-patterned comforter. "I'm fine." 

Thrass sighed, before fixing him with an earnest look. "It's okay, Thrawn. I have nightmares too, and sometimes they scare the shit out of me. I don't think there's anyone who doesn't have them." 

Thrawn hung his head, bright eyes dimming considerably as he mumbled something Thrass couldn't make out. He didn't push it. 

"Do you want to come to my room?" 

Thrawn looked up sharply at that and nodded almost immediately. Thrass couldn't help a small smile when his younger brother realized his slip and turned slightly darker in the infrared. 

But Thrass didn't comment, only getting to his feet and holding a hand out, which Thrawn took after only a second of hesitation. His grip tightened as they crossed the hallway, and he only seemed to relax once they were inside the safe haven of Thrass's bigger bedroom. 

"I saw something," Thrawn said suddenly. "In the hallway. I was just imagining it but－it looked like－" 

"Hey." Thrass crouched down to his level, brushing the sweaty hair back from his forehead. _That bad, huh._ "I get you. I sometimes think I see things over there, too. It's way too narrow if you ask me."

That coaxed a smile out of his brother, and Thrass had to hold his own. In truth, it had been years since the narrow hallway with its ghoulish paintings had inspired fear in his imagination, but he knew that beyond the general creepiness of the claustrophobic space, Thrawn saw something in those paintings that unsettled him. Thrass had never asked. It would all be explained when Thrawn was ready. 

"Come on, let's get you settled," said Thrass, leading him over to the giant bed. Thrawn wasted no time in crawling under the burgundy comforter, taking shelter from the frigid air as far as possible without suffocating, only his chin and up sticking out from under the covers. Thrass chuckled. 

"Comfier than yours?" he jested. 

"Yes," said Thrawn, which was a total lie. Thrass knew his little brother just enjoyed his company, or _needed it,_ after a particularly bad dream, and he was too proud to admit it. 

Thrass feigned a yawn, before ruffling his brother's head full of blue-black hair. "Goodnight, then. Sleep well." 

Thrawn sat up, his eyes wide. "Where are you going?" he demanded, his voice rising a pitch in alarm. 

Thrass looked over his shoulder innocently from the door. "You're all settled in my more comfortable bed, aren't you? I'm just going to sleep in your room for the night." 

The look of unfiltered distress that crossed his brother's face was enough to convince Thrass to give up the charade, but before he could laugh it off and come clean, Thrawn was confessing. 

"I don't－I don't want the _bed,_ Thrass, it's…not so different from mine! Just...can you stay? _Please stay."_

Thrass blinked, caught completely off guard. Thrawn looked _scared_ that he would leave, his eyes wide and his knuckles white around the pillow he hugged to his chest. He was shivering slightly. 

"I'll stay," Thrass reassured him, closing the door and trying not to hurry over. "Hey, it's alright. I'm not going anywhere." 

Tangible relief crossed the younger Chiss's face, and he slowly lowered the pillow and scooted over, giving him room to climb in. 

Thrass took the invitation, laying on his side facing Thrawn before he realized that Thrawn's back was to the door. And the younger Chiss didn't look thrilled about that. 

"Do you want to switch sides?" he asked gently. 

Thrawn nodded. 

"You're going to have to climb over," said Thrass with a grin, receiving a smile in turn before Thrawn did exactly that. He flopped onto the bed on his other side, before reaching behind him for the pillow and once again hugging it to his chest. 

"Goodnight, Thrawn." 

"Goodnight." 

Thrass closed his eyes, silently glad that that little episode was over with. Honestly, it had gone a lot easier than he'd expected. There'd been no tears, for one. He was shite at handling anything with tears involved. 

What couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes later, he was brought back from the brink of unconsciousness by a small voice. 

"Thrass?" 

Thrass cracked an eye open. "Hmm?" 

Thrawn's wide eyes were very much awake, and very close. Sometime within those fifteen minutes, he'd ditched the pillow and snuggled up to Thrass. 

"The art in the hallway." 

Thrass tensed. "Yes?"

"It's...bad. Bad history. Bad...intentions." 

Thrass opened both eyes, looking down at his younger brother's pained expression. 

"You don't have to explain it to me if you don't want to."

"I want to." Thrawn pulled himself closer, as if seeking protection. "You should know." 

Thrass realized that yet again, his blind spot was unguarded. In his room, Thrawn started off sleeping facing the door, but his curtains were always closed, no matter how dark it was outside. Thrass never bothered to close his curtains, and Thrawn looked as though he was contemplating turning around to face the direction any threat could most likely come from. The unguarded side. 

Thrass reached over him and pulled the covers tighter around the younger Chiss. He tucked the edges in just snugly enough so that his back was effectively cocooned in it. 

Thrawn visibly relaxed. 

"You can tell me in the morning, if you prefer." 

"Now is a good time," Thrawn insisted. Of course. In the morning he'd pretend none of this ever happened. 

"Okay," said Thrass quietly, with a smile. He didn't know why he was whispering, but he figured the time and the place was right for it. Besides, he didn't want the matron waking up and berating Thrawn for being childish and him for treating his baby brother like...well, like a child.

"The paintings in the hall come from Celwis. They were made in an era before the formation of the CDF." 

Thrass blinked. He hadn't expected that. "When...Celwis would constantly fall prey to the Vagaari?" 

Thrawn nodded tightly. "The artists are Chiss. The paintings express their anger and frustration with the invaders, but also...the damage that was done. The invaders would raze their settlements to the ground. They would slaughter defenseless civilians. The snow was painted with the blood of the weak, and the strong were forced into servitude." 

Thrass felt a cold shiver run up his spine that had nothing to do with the frigid air. "You...read all this from the paintings?" 

Thrawn buried his head into his chest, seeking warmth or comfort, possibly both. "The painting closest to my room is the work of an artist who had a loved one taken from them. Possibly a child, possibly a sibling. He desired to do to the invaders' own young what was done to his." 

Thrass tightened his loose embrace around his little brother. "I'm sorry." 

He didn't know what he was apologizing for; Thrawn's unnerving talent of seeing that which others could not? The history of the paintings no one else could have known about? 

"When I am older, I would join the defense fleet," said Thrawn, so quietly and softly that he had to strain to hear it. "I would do my part in ensuring those dark times do not befall the Ascendancy again."

Thrass felt something cold and vicelike wrap around his heart. He didn't even like the _thought_ of Thrawn joining the defense fleet. His mind would be a valuable asset, he would ascend the ranks fast－ but wouldn't he put himself in danger every day? Set himself up against the brutality of the Vagaari and every other threat that lurked around their borders? Stick his neck out for other worlds that couldn't defend themselves? 

"They could use someone like you," said Thrass, honestly, even though it ached to say it. "But I'm not exactly going to be around, you know." 

Thrawn nodded. "You can't protect me forever." He said it in such a matter-of-fact way. "Though perhaps I can protect you someday." 

Thrass smiled. "You will," he said. "Now go to sleep, Thrawn. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow." 

"A long day?"

"Very long and tiring," said Thrass, stifling a yawn. He didn't elaborate further. "Goodnight, you wampa. I'm going to be grumpy tomorrow if I don't go to sleep now. You don't want that, do you?" 

Thrawn snuggled against him, humming in assent. Just as he'd suspected; the little scamp was dead tired, just stubborn enough to get one conversation through. 

"Goodnight, Thrass." 

Thrass closed his eyes, and hoped for good dreams of the future. 

* * *

**Bonus Fanart!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr, I'm @hoofgirl!


	8. Sandcastle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thrawn learns a new form of art, and is infuriated with Thrass being a teenager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking babie Thrawn prompts now. He's just too adorable. From now on this is mostly a babie Thrawn and Thrass fic. 

Few worlds in the Ascendancy had beaches worth writing home about, but the vast expanse of sand and sea that framed the land on Oyokal was one of the notable exceptions. 

Still, few Chiss enjoyed the glaring sun and the irritating sand between their feet. During the harsh winters on Csilla, those who could afford it preferred to take vacation on more tropical worlds like Ool, or more scenic ones like Avidich. 

Not the Mitth family, though. The Mitth had gone so far as to build a holiday home on the fringes of a barren beach in Oyokal. It had for years been their ideal getaway; someplace completely devoid of other Chiss, where the Mitth would not have to deal with tiring conversations or the bane that was civilized society. Only peace and quiet. 

Thrawn had been more than intrigued by the prospect of leaving Csilla, for the first time in his young life, on what his adoptive family called a _vacation._ Thrass didn't know that he knew it was really a cover-story to get the two of them off-world while the family dealt with increasingly hostile ties with House Chaf that strained their relationship with the Aristorca. Although Thrawn would have liked to observe whatever tensions that unfolded between the conflicting parties, he appreciated the opportunity to visit a new world even more.

He had been sorely disappointed on the first day. Being completely removed from civilization, the surroundings of their beach house were barren of any art or cultural details he could study. Thrass had rolled his eyes and pointed out that _that_ wasn't the point of this vacation. Thrawn had refrained from arguing that he knew the real reason they'd been sent here. 

On the second day, though, he'd given it a chance. Leaving the beach house while his brother was still asleep, he discovered on his own that there was a different sort of charm to the sand and the waves, one he was happy to observe for long periods of time. Thrass had woken up to find his brother missing and panicked. When he was discovered, he was reprimanded for giving Thrass a heart attack. 

On the third day, Thrass had let go of his admittedly justified anger, and joined him on the beach. 

"Just don't get yourself killed," warned the older Chiss, setting up a curious-looking chair made of wooden supports and flimsy cloth that somehow held his weight. "Why don't you stay where I can see you and build a sandcastle or something?"

Thrawn perked up at that. "What is a _sandcastle?_ "

Thrass bit back a grin, setting his magazine down. The magazine, Thrawn couldn't help but notice, had a teenage actress on the cover who was likely Thrass's age. Was that what constituted quality literature for teenagers? 

"It's a form of art. Well. Highly temporary, but art nonetheless." 

Thrawn frowned. "I have seen temporary structures that passed as art, but I have never come across these... _sandcastles._ What era of art does it belong to? And why do you suggest I build one? Is it an easy structure to create, even for an amateur?" 

Thrass massaged his temples, as if feeling a headache coming on. "On second thought, I shouldn't have said that," he grumbled. "Yes, anyone can make one, and _no,_ it doesn't belong to any era. It's kind of just...always been done. Whenever people visit a beach." 

"It can only be built while at a beach?" 

His older brother sighed deeply, before finally setting his magazine aside. Thrawn made a mental note to go through said magazine whenever he got the opportunity; he feared the contents were detrimental to Thrass's intellect. 

"Tell you what. I'll show you how to build one, and if you want, you can make more on your own." 

Thrawn nodded, making himself pay attention. How did Thrass know so much about this artform? Perhaps he had underestimated his brother. 

"Come on." Thrass held a hand out to him. "We need to get some supplies first."

"Would we have these supplies?" asked Thrawn, taking his hand as he started heading back towards the beach house. "And would father be agreeable to us using them?" 

Thrass rolled his eyes. "I'm sure he won't have a problem with it." 

Thrass lead him to the storage closet tucked away underneath the stairs, getting the jammed doors open and hunting around in the dark for something. He didn't ask for help, so Thrawn just stood at a safe distance and waited patiently. After some clattering and cursing, Thrass crawled out of the small space with a tin-can bucket and two short shovels that looked like masonry equipment. 

"Right. This should do it." 

Thrawn squinted suspiciously at the nondescript _supplies._ "Are you certain we are not missing any key components?"

"No, pretty sure we're not," said Thrass, closing the doors with a loud creak. "Let's go back. Come."

Thrawn didn't hold his hand because his hands were full, but stuck close nevertheless. It was noticeably more chilly outside than before. Thrass gazed at the sky with an irritated frown. 

"Is it going to rain?" Thrawn asked. 

"Maybe," admitted Thrass. "I don't know. Guess we'll find out later."

Thrass carefully surveyed the beach, and found them a spot that the sea didn't reach when the tide came in. Here the sand was dry, although an arm's length away, the sand was slightly damp, enough to have a brittle surface. 

Thrass sat on the ground and he followed suite, wondering exactly where this was going. Obviously the medium for this artwork would be the sand itself, but he still couldn't picture what it was they were about to create. 

Thrass plunked the bucket in front of him. "Get some wet sand, will you? From over there. Don't go too far."

Thrawn nodded, rising to the task. He didn't need to go far; the sand was damp enough in the place he'd chosen, and this time, the sea didn't reach it. He spotted a couple of ascending waves, though, that would doubtless reach, and quickened his pace. He reached Thrass before the sea could catch up. 

"Will this do?"

"Perfect," said Thrass, putting down the magazine he'd managed to retrieve. Thrawn huffed. _Typical._ He should've known better than to hope Thrass was so proficient in this form of art that he wouldn't get easily distracted from the task. 

Thrass peered into the bucket, before giving his clean hands a regrettable look and plunging them into the wet sand. He removed a big clump of it, setting it on the ground. 

"We're going to shape this into looking like a castle," explained Thrass, gingerly attempting to mold some shape out of the clump. "We should probably start with some kind of base." 

Thrawn squinted at him. "You do not know what you are doing. Do you?"

Thrass snorted. "I know more than _you."_ He looked down at the pitiful lump. "But you're already aware that I am a terrible artist. Come on, help."

Thrawn wordlessly removed another lump from the bucket and stacked it on top of the one Thrass had set. He began to flatten it, carefully, patting the sand down into a thick circular base that rose a short distance from the ground.

"You're doing great," encouraged Thrass. "You can make it bigger, if you want a bigger castle." 

Thrawn nodded, removing more sand and flattening it. He added to the edges of the circular base, widening it, and set a full layer on top for added thickness. 

"Excellent," praised Thrass, surreptitiously picking up his magazine. "Keep going." 

"We need more sand." 

"So go get some. Don't go too far." 

"I am assuming we cannot use dry sand?"

Thrass didn't even look up as he ruffled his hair. "We cannot. it's not as adhesive." 

"What is _adhesive?_ " 

"Um, it's how molecules stick together." Thrawn could tell from his brother's tone that this wasn't an entirely accurate explanation, but he didn't question it. He picked up the bucket and headed back just as Thrass turned a page. 

The older boy didn't hear him approach again, so Thrawn set the bucket down quietly and snuck up behind him. 

He took one look at the page and winced. "You consider this enlightening?" 

Thrass nearly jumped. "Where the hell did you spring from?!" 

Thrawn crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Why are you reading... _that?_ " 

Thrass huffed. "It's called _young adult fiction,_ you nerf-wampa. We can't always have our noses buried in art history texts." 

Thrawn jabbed a finger at the panel depicting the two protagonists engaged in a heated half-dressed makeout session. "That is disgusting." 

"Thrawn, you're _nine._ Go back to your sandcastle." 

"Why would they show this in such detail? Surely it cannot be relevant to the plot－" 

Thrass snapped the magazine shut and bodily turned him towards the barely-started castle lying forgotten in the sand. 

"You'll understand when you're older. Right _now,_ don't you have a project to finish?" 

Thrawn sighed. "Yes. But you should stop reading that. I fear it will have a negative impact on your intelligence." 

"Duly noted," said Thrass dryly, hidden amusement in his eyes. 

Knowing a dead end when he saw one, Thrawn went back to sitting on the sand, critically assessing the work done so far. His sandcastle had a solid foundation. It was possible to strengthen it further with a border of rocks, but the only rocks he had spotted on the beach of acceptable size were dotted around the crags that stood out from under the water. When the sea receded, they were accessible; however, when the sea came back in full force, it did not look remotely safe to be standing at the bottom of one. 

The rocks would have to be forfeit, Thrawn decided, and started to shape his sandcastle above the base. What started off as a fat lump of sand slowly took the form of a castle, his inspiration being the Mitth ancestral home on Copero, if a little lopsided. Soon enough he'd shaped the central keep. 

Thrawn left to collect more sand, and returned to build the rest of the castle. He was careful not to knock over the first tower while he made the others. It proved far more difficult to construct the narrower towers that surrounded the keep, the second of which kept on crumbling from the top. 

Thrawn sat back, assessing the tower critically. He could sacrifice the original design to have a more stable tower, thicker at the foundation and a mere narrow pike above. But the castle had ten towers, and he couldn't envision ten pikes and a central keep resembling his muse in any discernible way. 

"Problem?" asked Thrass, looking out from the edge of his magazine. 

"The towers I make aren't stable." 

His brother narrowed his eyes at the pathetic imitation of a castle. "Thrawn, I don't think any part of that looks stable." 

Thrawn turned around just in time to see his central keep knocked to the ground, the perpetrator being a shelled, clawed creature the size of his fist that emerged unannounced from the sand below. He instinctively back-tracked away from it hastily. 

"What is that?" he asked, no small amount of alarm in his voice. 

Thrass valiantly attempted to keep his laughter in check, but when Thrawn scrambled to his feet and darted behind his beach-chair for cover, the dam broke. 

"I don't understand why you laugh in the face of an unfamiliar potential threat," Thrawn said, shooting him an acidic look. It was the first time he looked away from the crab, who was now making a hole for itself in what was left of Thrawn's sandcastle. "It could be venomous. It could be prone to sudden attacks. It is an armoured creature with _claws,_ Thrass." 

"It's a _crab,_ " said Thrass. "And it's harmless. They're probably all over this beach, under the sand." 

Thrawn looked at him, horrified. 

"They are not a _threat_ ," Thrass insisted, dropping his magazine down beside him onto the chair. "Watch me."

"No, you cannot－" 

Thrass dug his toes into the sand and kicked a thick clump of it at the crab, who immediately sprang into the air and skittered away. 

"See?" said Thrass, a satisfied smirk on his face as he picked up his magazine. "They're more afraid of you than you are of them." 

"Yes," muttered Thrawn, frowning. "It would appear so. However, I will have to make my sandcastle elsewhere." 

"Probably," agreed Thrass, no longer paying attention to him. "Put some rocks around it and maybe a moat to keep the crabs out." 

Thrawn shot his brother a disgruntled look, but said no more as he picked up his tools and a bucketful of still-damp sand from his castle ruins, and set out to find another location. 

Arriving closer to where the water swept in, Thrawn noted minuscule tracks left in the sand; no doubt those of a crab, given the zigzag nature of the strides and the pinprick-sized holes left behind. He followed the trail backwards until he found more trails, deducing that all of them lead to the sea after emerging from seemingly random burrows in the sand. 

_Deceptive,_ Thrawn thought. _They are not random. There is a pattern to this._

He didn't notice the trails leading him further and further away from Thrass. He was quite determined to prove that the creatures couldn't be hiding under _every_ square inch of the beach, as Thrass seemed to think. 

He did notice the sky turning darker and the wind blowing a shade stronger, but these things were hardly obstacles. Chiss eyes were not made to be impeded by such things as the dark. He kept following the trails until there were no more left to follow. 

Going even beyond the last trail to confirm his theory, he was finally able to satisfiably conclude that the crabs indeed had a mass nest below the sand, and he'd reached the very end of its radius. 

The first drop of rain hit the ridge of his cheek. 

When he looked up, more of it followed. Cold drops, one at a time, like the heavens were holding back. 

And let loose all at once. 

Thrawn swore to himself, cursing his lack of foresight, before using the head of the shovel to shield his eyes and turning around to retrace his footsteps. 

Except that it was _cold,_ there were no nearby heat sources for his eyes to catch in the dark, and the rain and wind were working in tandem to erase his footprints. 

_This is alright. This is fine._

He hadn't taken a particularly _complicated_ route. On his left was the sea, far louder than he remembered it ever being, and on his right was a border of coarse jungle that he knew not to wander into. The holiday house stood out from the thorny underbrush. He would either find the house first, or run into Thrass. It was going to be fine. 

Except that the rain was coming down at full force, stinging where it hit his head and shoulders, and his increasingly damp shirt was only making the cold wind all the more unbearable against his skin. 

He abandoned the bucket of sand somewhere along the path, and the shovel wasn't helping all that much, but he clutched onto it nevertheless. 

He could soon make out the faint heat signatures of the crabs, but the population was too thin for here to be anywhere near where he'd left Thrass. He kept trudging forward, trying to ignore the rain and the cold. When a flash of lightning split the sky open, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders tightly. 

But the rain became worse with time and the sea even louder, overwhelming to his senses, and he didn't even realize it when all of that went _blank_ somewhere along the way.

  
  
  


Thrawn woke up to something warm wrapped around his back, bleary vision clearing out in a few heartbeats. Faintly he registered the scent of smoldering firewood and the even more welcoming scent of hot chocolate caf. 

"Oh, you're _awake,_ " grumbled a familiar voice, and Thrawn realized that the warm thing wrapped around him like a blanket was Thrass, and also a blanket. "How are you feeling, besides like an idiot?" 

Thrawn huffed, unconsciously burrowing further into his brother's chest. It was grounding and warm and _comforting._

"I am fine. How did you find me?" 

He felt careful fingers card through his damp hair, the affection obvious despite the sternness Thrass tied to keep in his reprimanding tone. 

"Collapsed on the sand like a kriffing corpse," he answered, an uncomfortable edge to his voice. "I swear on our holy dead ancestors, Thrawn, if you pull a stunt like that again I'm either going to die from stress or lock you in your room for a _month_. Are we clear on that?" 

Thrawn was quiet a moment, guilt prickling unhelpfully at his insides. 

"A month seems harsh." 

"A _month,_ " Thrass reiterated firmly, "And no more trips to the museum." 

Thrawn looked up sharply. "That is not a fitting punishment!" 

"Too bad you're not the one who gets to judge," said Thrass dryly. "Here, sit up. I made your favorite caf." 

He wrapped the heavy woolen blanket around the younger Chiss before padding over to the kitchen. Thrawn sniffed, realizing belatedly that he'd developed a runny nose. 

Thrass returned with two steaming mugs of caf, passing him the bigger one. It felt incredible against his still-cold palms.

After a moment spent in silence, Thrass spoke up, sounding awkwardly apologetic. 

"Listen, you wandering off like that was mainly your fault, but I'm sorry if I was terrible company. I'm sorry you didn't get to build that sandcastle either－ did you?" 

Thrawn shook his head. 

Thrass winced. "Anyway, this is partly my fault－ but no more than ten percent, mind you－ so if you're feeling better by tomorrow morning, maybe we can give sandcastles another go?" 

Thrawn raised an eyebrow. " _We?_ " 

Thrass laughed. "Yes, you little womp-rat, _we._ I'll actually participate this time. Promise." 

Thrawn considered it. After a quick survey of the area, he found that Thrass's magazine was nowhere to be seen. He had spent all this time reflecting, then, and was genuine in his offer. 

"Yes," he said, returning Thrass's bright, affectionate smile, if only a weak version of it. "I would appreciate that." 

  
  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop me Mitth bros prompts in the comments and thank you :3


	9. Panic! At the Chissco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A revelation.

Eli rolled over onto his stomach, draping one arm indulgently across Thrawn's chest and burying his face in the Chiss's collarbone. He felt a soft kiss to the top of his head. 

"That was satisfying," he remarked with a slight grin. _Satisfying_ was an understatement. "Think I'll be able to walk tomorrow?" 

"It depends," said Thrawn coolly, in that smooth voice of his. "Would you like to go again?" 

"Would I－" Eli pushed himself up on his arms and hauled a knee over so he was straddling Thrawn's waist, treating the Chiss to the full weight of his incredulity. "You really _are_ looking to get us in trouble, aren't you?" 

Thrawn slipped a warm, large hand up the small of his back. "I would argue that we are already in trouble." 

Eli snorted. "A _court martial_ is all in a day's work for the two of us." 

"Indeed." 

Eli pursed his lips in thought. "If you're suggesting we take this risk, you've already thought through it a lot, haven't you?" 

Thrawn smiled with just the corners of his lips. "I have considered enough. Judging by the glow of your body in the infrared, especially certain...ah, _erogenous zones,_ I estimate you can take one more round before it will show in your stride tomorrow." 

_That_ really did give Eli pause. 

"You can tell...from the way I look in the infrared?" 

"Yes," Thrawn said. "My ability to see into the infrared becomes far more potent in the dark. In my experience, when you are at your limit, your skin is a particularly sharp colour. Similar to the colour of those office stationery supplies frequently ordered for the supply division." 

"Highlighters," said Eli, disbelieving. "You're saying I look like a _highlighter._ " 

"Of the pink variety, to a certain extent, and the violet. Fresh bruising on your skin is orange." 

Eli groaned. "You're saying _all this time,_ whenever we've had _sex,_ I've looked like a kriffing _billboard?_ " 

Thrawn paused, his hands having reached the curve of his ass by now. 

"Is there a problem, Eli?" 

The human sat up, putting a great deal more distance between them. Thrawn slowly withdrew his hands. 

"Why didn't you _tell me?_ You just _let me_ glow in the dark all this time and hurt your eyes when we could've kept the lights on!" 

"You preferred not to turn on the lights－" 

"Not if I'd known about this!" 

"I see," murmured Thrawn, contemplatively. "You worry that it has been difficult on my eyes. However, that is far from the case. I enjoy seeing the shifting colours when it comes to you. You look like a work of art."

Eli narrowed his eyes, swatting at his chest. "Really? It doesn't hurt your eyes?" 

"It is natural for Chiss to see this way, Eli."

"And if I were another Chiss?" 

"The colours would be almost indiscernible."

"I knew it," scowled Eli. "Okay, we keep the lights on from now and I'm going to turn them on _right now_ before you can start again－"

Thrawn caught his wrist before he could clamber off, pulling him back down so their foreheads were touching. 

"If you turn the lights on, Eli, I will not be able to do what I plan on doing next." 

Eli's breath caught at the nearly predatory look in the Chiss's red eyes. 

"And...what's that?" he asked airily. 

Thrawn traced his lower lip delicately with the tip of a finger. "I wish to touch every surface of your skin that appears this colour. With my tongue."

"Oh, Force," Eli cursed breathlessly. "What...what surfaces _are_ those, just for curiosity's sake?" 

Thrawn smirked. 

"That, Eli, is something only I can show you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Me: posts for this fandom for the first time in months  
> ~~   
>  ~~Me: posts this~~


	10. Five Times Thrass Wanted to Bleach His Eyes (and one time he made a friend who agrees) - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good morning. I had an epic idea for a serious story about Thrawn and Ezra teaming up to save the Ascendancy in a war against the Grysk. 
> 
> And then I wrote crackfic using that universe instead. This chapter is rated M for bad smut dialogue.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I still haven't read Chaos Rising because the universe hates me, so there will be no chaos rising spoilers. ~~Actually this was written a long time ago, before CR was announced and I'm only posting it now because I'm garbage at keeping track of my fics but you didn't hear that from me.~~

The  _ Steadfast _ had taken most of the damage, but Thrass was impressed that despite being flown straight between two Grysk motherships as per Admiral Ar'alani's report, it hadn't lost a single crewmember. That was thanks to Thrawn, of course, who'd exploited some weakness in the Grysk defenses, and apparently he'd had help from the Jedi Ezra Bridger in the execution of his plan. These were interesting times. 

_ Interesting,  _ Thrass reflected, if Thrawn's first act upon returning to the Ascendancy hadn't been declaring open war on the Grysk. Ar'alani and her allies in the Admiralty had  _ listened to him,  _ and here they were. The  _ Steadfast  _ was grounded, getting its hyperdrive repaired, and Thrass was paying his brother a visit to tell him exactly what the Aristorca thought of his foolhardiness. 

And exactly what Thrass, the  _ responsible  _ sibling, thought of that insane maneuver creeping between two colossal Grysk vessels, Jedi help or not. 

He tried reaching Thrawn on his commlink but got no response, and decided it was probably better that his visit was a surprise. That way, his brother wouldn't be able to cook up some clever justification to appease his concerns. Thrass didn't attempt to comm Eli Vanto either. He deserved just as much chewing out for encouraging Thrawn. 

Arriving at his brother's office aboard the  _ Steadfast,  _ Thrass briefly contemplated announcing his presence first, but concluded with a little smirk that Thrawn needed to be blindsided. He turned his code cylinder in the lock, and the red light turned blue, and the doors opened, admitting him in. 

The doors had closed behind him by the time he realized what he'd just walked in on. 

Thrawn's back was to him, but he could  _ clearly  _ discern the fact that his brother had one Commander Eli Vanto pinned to the desk with his uniform tunic open and hair askew, while the two of them kissed deeply and messily.

There are some situations in life where one has to make an immediate, swift exit. This was one of those situations. Thrass, for the life of him, couldn't move, frozen in place by the startling revelation he  _ honestly should've noticed sooner.  _

There was nothing he wanted more than to turn around and leave for the planet of House Sabosen at once, where they may have developed a medical technique to scrub an image clean off a Chiss's retinas, but he  _ couldn't move.  _

Thrawn swiftly lifted Vanto's legs, which were immediately wrapped around his waist while the Commander settled neatly onto the edge of the desk, his fingers curling at the back of Thrawn's head as he deepened the kiss further. 

_ That's quite enough for today.  _

Thrass cleared his throat loudly and pointedly, and watched with hidden satisfaction as his brother went still, caught completely off-guard. 

_ Just as I had hoped for, if under considerably different circumstances.  _

Eli helped, shoving the Chiss away from him and making a dogged attempt to fix his state of undress. The human's face was a brilliant shade of scarlet that Thrass knew a few Aristorcas would love to have cloaks made out of. 

"I...we can explain," stuttered Eli. 

"No, there's no need to, I saw  _ very well,  _ thank you  _ very much, _ " Thrass turned glowing red eyes on them both. "I  _ dropped by  _ to tell you the Aristorca is pissed, Thrawn, and there's a rogue phalanx who claims to have information on the Grysk that wants to get in touch with you,  _ and,  _ I personally disapprove of your foolhardy, reckless plans, but I've just lost my appetite to do any of that." 

Thrawn looked immediately engaged. "A rogue phalanx? I must look into it－" 

"No," said Thrass, petulantly. "They want  _ me  _ to be the point of contact. And I'll be sure to tell them you're too busy playing tonsil hockey with Commander Vanto to receive them. Good day _. _ " 

"Thrass－"

"Talk to me when you're not thinking about sex! _Good_ _day_." 

Thrass wished these were manual doors he could slam behind him to make a statement, but as it happened, striding out of the office without giving Thrawn the information he was now desperate to have was  _ satisfying enough.  _

* * *

As a Syndic of a ruling family, Thrass was used to spending weeks on end on diplomatic errands away from home. Still, since the entire Grysk affair had started, he'd been needed more on a  _ military base,  _ because the Aristorca wished to closely monitor Thrawn's involvement in the upcoming battle. They hadn't asked him, of course, but that was exactly why Thrass had cleared his schedule to be present on-base. He didn't trust Chaf'ormb'inthrano to deliver an unbiased report as far as he could throw him－which, if the man wasn't wearing his ridiculously heavy robes, was not an unimpressive distance. But he  _ was  _ always wearing those robes and Thrass couldn't throw him very far at all. The point being, he didn't like Formbi's involvement. 

And Formbi didn't like him. Thrass was somewhat grateful for the distraction provided by Thrawn's  _ other  _ human ally, a pale-skinned, pompous man with yellow hair who was just as arrogant as Formbi himself, who seemed to have become the Chaf Aristorca's new best friend. 

Still, a military base was a far cry from the comforts of a diplomatic quarters, and the quarters assigned to him hadn't come with a private 'fresher. He headed for the communal 'freshers now, at an hour too late for anyone else to be using them, after a long day of trading looks with Formbi and his human favourite. 

Slinging his bundle of clothes over a shoulder, Thrass keyed open the ancient door to the widespread common facility, so derelict on this out-of-the-way base that it housed exclusively water showers separated by thin plastoid walls. 

Thrass was greeted with an organized maze of stalls and almost complete silence. It was slightly unsettling how the vast space was so empty while being so cramped with stalls, and Thrass figured there were at least thirty partitions in the maze before him. Some of the showers probably didn't work. He hoped it wouldn't be too difficult to find a decent stall. 

He chose a path at random and made his way down, peering into any door that was open. Broken tiles. Broken shower heads. Some had suspicious fungal growth sprouting from the drains, and that was a definite  _ no.  _

Thrass sighed. He'd used these showers in the morning when it was crowded, and one of the officers had been courteous enough to show him to a good stall. Perhaps he should simply use that one? 

Thrass went in search for it, easily enough recounting from memory which of the passages it was in, although not so successfully which door lead to it. He was almost certain he was nearing his destination when he heard it. 

Water. Not a loud flow, but it was still there. One of the stalls was occupied, and, craning his neck, Thrass realized it was the one he'd been looking for. 

Sighing to himself, he started to turn around to try elsewhere, when he heard something else. 

Laughter. 

Thrass snapped around, searching for the source of the sound. But the corridor behind him was empty. He frowned. He had most certainly heard it…

Then there was the sound of something hitting against plastoid, followed by more bitten-back giggles. Slowly, Thrass's eyes were drawn to the occupied stall. 

Another  _ bang.  _ Something－ or  _ someone－  _ definitely hit the door from inside. 

That someone also gasped, their voice echoing off the walls, and then he heard a  _ different  _ voice growl, a decidedly animalistic sound. 

Thrass dropped his shoulders, resisting the urge to bang his own head on one of the walls.  _ Mother of Csilla's Moons, are you serious? _

He shook his head miserably to himself. This was just like his luck, wasn't it? And now he was never going to use that stall again. 

Although, he was quite surprised that two Chiss officers would resort to this. Chiss sexual relationships were very  _ private  _ affairs, and while there was no stigma in relationships between those in the lower rungs of command, those in higher positions would have their own quarters and no need to seek out－ 

The person being pushed up against the stall door  _ moaned,  _ and Thrass snapped out of his thoughts. The only option at this point was to find a stall far, far away from this one and take the quick shower he needed, and with any luck, leave before either of this stall's occupants decided to come out. 

_ "Yes. Very good, Eli. You're doing so well."  _

Thrass  _ froze _ . 

_ "Thrawn...I...fuck, Thrawn, get inside me already!"  _

Thrass stumbled several steps back, barely stopping himself from cursing out loud in alarm.  _ Thrawn? That was Thrawn?!  _

_ "Patience, Eli. I would prefer not to hurt you."  _

_ "I swear to the fucking Force I'm ready, will you hurry up and...argh!"  _

Thrass wanted to  _ bolt  _ from the room, but his traitorous feet wouldn't budge and his brain was short-circuiting. 

More loud knocks against the stall door, and Thrass flinched away, terrified the door would come clean off, and then he heard curses and shuffling and another  _ bang,  _ and Thrawn  _ hissed  _ at the same time a loud cry from Eli pierced the air. 

_ "So fucking  _ tight,  _ Eli."  _

_ "Will you just...ah! Fuck! H-Harder."  _

_ "Can you take it?"  _

_ "Yes!"  _

Thrass felt dangerously close to wanting to cry. What the hell had he gotten himself into?  _ How _ had his life gotten to this point? What horrible sins had he committed to deserve this? 

Eli moaned wantonly and Thrawn muttered an expletive from between gritted teeth and then Eli's voice was rising gradually higher and before he knew it, the human Commander was  _ screaming  _ at the top of his lungs, his wails echoing off the high walls and reflecting back around the  _ whole room.  _

Thrass snagged the bag of clothes he'd dropped and immediately turned tail. He couldn't get out of the door fast enough. He  _ ran.  _

Once safely outside, Thrass slumped against the common door, doing his very damn best not to have a mental breakdown. 

No one, not even someone as vile as Aristorca Chaf'ormb'inthrano, not even someone as  _ infuriatingly prissy  _ as Brierly Ronan, deserved to walk in on their own  _ brother  _ having  _ sex  _ with someone they regarded as a friend. Or  _ anyone,  _ for that matter. 

No shower tonight. There was absolutely no way he was going to go back in there. His escape had been narrow enough as it was. 

Thrass straightened and got himself back together as an idea occurred to him. 

He knew someone who  _ did  _ have access to a private 'fresher, primarily because the rest of the base was weary of him. 

Someone who incidentally also happened to be Thrawn's guest. 

Someone who would greatly appreciate  _ any  _ ammo he could get to test Thrawn's nerves. 

Thrass grinned to himself, his mood improving considerably. 

Revenge, he would gloat to his brother later, is also a form of art. 

* * *

The young Jedi proved to be exceptional company. Thrass was starting to find they had a lot in common, namely being extremely weary of one Mitth'raw'nuruodo. 

But now, over the sounds of the crowded mess hall and two mugs of caf and trays of bland breakfast, Ezra was telling him about his own life. 

"And then Hondo introduces me as Lando Calrissian, but he knows who I am because of that operation of his we wrecked, and tells Hondo I was lying to him. And Hondo is  _ impressed. _ " 

Thrass frowned slightly. "But is he not attempting to space you both? Why is this smuggler in such good spirits?"

Ezra laughed. "You don't know  _ Hondo Ohnaka _ . He's living on a different  _ plane  _ altogether." 

"I assume he also survived?"

"Definitely. I had to give away that I was a Jedi, though, to get us out of that mess. We almost didn't make it."

Thrass shook his head slowly, clear awe written all over his face. "I understand completely why Mr Ohnaka was impressed with you. You are truly a remarkable young man, and we are also grateful to have you with us during this time of crisis." 

Ezra made a face. "I'm happy to help, but I wish I could do more. The Admiral has me under scrutiny all the time, because. You know. I kind of tried to kill Thrawn that one time." 

Thrass snorted. "A pity you didn't succeed. But I can negotiate on your behalf with the Admiral. You should be allowed to run simple scouting missions, at least, without a guard."

"Two guards," Ezra corrected, grinning. "And come on, don't be like that. Thrawn's not  _ so bad  _ once you get to know him." 

Thrass treated him to a pointed glare. "You haven't spent your entire life cleaning up after his brash choices, Ezra. And you did not have the misfortune of walking in on him and Vanto  _ twice. _ " 

Ezra chortled. "And I'm  _ glad.  _ Maybe you just need to be more careful." 

"The communal showers?  _ Really? _ " 

"Sure." Ezra shrugged. "I lived on a rebel base. It's rule number one to not go to the showers past eleven standard in the night cycle." 

"That is not the culture on Chiss military bases." 

"Eh, I think you just haven't been to enough bases for a long enough time.  _ All  _ bases are like that."

Thrass huffed. "I'll bet it was no different with the Empire. Eli Vanto is, after all, a former Imperial. This has to be his idea."

Ezra raised his eyebrows. "Oh, because Thrawn is such a right and proper guy?" 

Thrass relented. "Good point. But I stand by my claim that it is  _ not  _ the Chiss culture." 

"What is not the Chiss culture?"

Thrass and Ezra looked up from their discussion to see Thrawn slide a tray of his own onto the table beside Thrass. The older brother huffed and scooted over, giving him room. Ezra let Eli take the spot next to him. 

"Uh, we were just talking about...dabbing," said Ezra, the lie coming to him unconvincingly. 

"Yes…" Thrass caught on, but not entirely. "Young Bridger was telling me about the human practice of...dabbing."

Eli snorted. "Of  _ course  _ you'd teach a Syndic what dabbing is. I hope you're not gonna start doing it, Thrass. It's kind of looked down upon." 

" _ Hey _ ," protested Ezra, highly indignant. "It's a perfectly acceptable thing in the right circumstances!"

"From what I have gathered, it is frowned upon in Core cultures," said Thrawn smoothly. "However, I cannot speak for the practice on individual planets in the Outer Rim. Perhaps the practice was adopted by the youth of such worlds in opposition to the Empire's disdain for it." 

"You're not...entirely wrong there," Ezra conceded, wondering why he was even surprised. "But only worlds with access to the Imperial holonet even know about it." 

"That is, of course, obvious. But you were not talking about dabbing." 

Eli held up a hand. " _ Stop.  _ It's too early in the morning to hear  _ you  _ say the word  _ 'dabbing'  _ unironically." 

As soon as he got the chance, Thrass thought, he would clear up with Ezra what this notorious practice of dabbing really entailed. Until then, there were other matters to sort out. He cleared his throat. 

"Young Bridger has indeed been telling me more about his side of the galaxy and the culture in the region," said Thrass. "We had quite an educational discussion about the Outer Rim last night. How was  _ your  _ night, brother?" 

Ezra's eyes widened but he got his expression quickly back under control, attempting to cover his lapse with a shoveling of food into his mouth. Thrass didn't notice any obvious response from his brother, but out of the corner of one eye he noticed Eli take a sudden interest in his mug of caf. 

"Most productive," said Thrawn coolly. "Commander Vanto and I discussed the _Katana_ _Fleet's_ next course of attack." 

"The Katana Fleet?" asked Ezra. 

Thrass waved a dismissive hand. "It's what he's calling our side operation the Aristorca doesn't know about, the biggest mess I'm going to have to clean up. And, ah, what did you decide in your  _ discussion? _ " 

Eli narrowed his eyes at him, trying to figure out what he was playing at. Bless him, he didn't know what Thrass had had to suffer through. 

But Thrawn caught on quickly. He  _ knew  _ his brother, knew what kind of games he played; and he knew also how to recognize bait. 

"It was highly conclusive," said Thrawn testily. Ezra looked back and forth between them, trying to figure out if he was reading the situation right. 

Thrass raised both eyebrows. " _ Was it,  _ now?" 

"I assure you. Why the sudden interest, Thrass? Have you finally accepted that it is the right course of action?" 

"No," Thrass bit out. "I still think it's foolhardy and has  _ Thrawn _ written all over it." 

"I will take credit for my ideas where it's due." 

"Even when they're astronomically  _ stupid  _ ideas with extended  _ consequences? _ " 

"Yes," said Thrawn. "Even then." 

"Um." Ezra interrupted. "Anyone care to fill me in?" 

"Uh...actually－" Eli's face was beet red now, having caught on at some point that they weren't  _ really  _ talking about the Katana Fleet. "Have you checked out the sugary nutri-bars yet, Ezra? If we leave now we should be able to snag a few."

Thrass couldn't believe how fast Ezra's demeanor changed from thoroughly confused teen to highly excitable child. 

"Oh yeah, for sure! They have  _ sweets?  _ I've been eating this bland muck for days!" 

As soon as the two of them were gone, Thrawn moved over to where Eli had been to glare at Thrass directly in the eye. 

"How much do you know?" he hissed. 

Thrass snorted. " _ Too much _ is the answer. The communal 'freshers, Thrawn?  _ Really? _ " 

Thrawn narrowed his eyes further, scowling. "How much did you hear?" 

Thrass chortled. "How much did I  _ hear?  _ Is that  _ really  _ your biggest concern? I heard you two  _ fucking,  _ is what I heard. Aren't you more concerned that it could've been someone  _ besides  _ me?" 

Thrawn's glare died down, though it didn't entirely vanish. But he looked a lot more like his usual glacially calm self when he spoke next, lowering his voice for only Thrass to hear. 

"I asked him to be my bond-mate." 

Thrass had by this point started sipping at his cafe, and he very nearly choked on it. "You  _ what? _ "

Thrawn looked exasperated. "Did you not expect it?" 

Thrass shot him an incredulous look. "No." 

"You really did not?"

" _ No.  _ You're prepared to be bonded? To one person? Exclusively?  _ You  _ want to settle down?" 

"I want to finish the war with the Grysk," said Thrawn firmly. "And Eli deserved to know that he is much more than merely an asset to the Ascendancy." 

Thrass snorted. "Okay, that's sweet, but I'm about to punch you in the face. You asked that after you fucked him in a public shower stall?" 

"It seemed acceptable in the circumstances."

" _ I'm going to fucking punch you. _ " 

"I would like to see you try." 

Thrass was about two seconds away from throwing down the gauntlet when Eli and Ezra returned, looking quizzically at their switched places before deciding collectively that it was better not to ask. Ezra slid in beside Thrass with tray loaded with something that looked extremely unhealthy, and Eli climbed in next to Thrawn. The two Chiss didn't really stop glaring at one another. 

"So," said Thrass abruptly, looking over at them. "You were successful in acquiring the good mess hall food, Eli?" 

Eli gestured to his tray. "More than usual. Ezra used a Force trick on the guy hoarding the stuff." 

"Good," said Thrass, sounding far too pleased for Thrawn's liking. "At last you are receiving the treatment you  _ deserve _ ."

"Uh...thanks?" Eli looked justifiably confused, and a little concerned. Unseen to everyone and in true domestic fashion, Thrawn kicked his brother under the table. 

"He has been granted access to the novelty foods since we occupied this base," said Thrawn crisply. 

"Okay, the two of you are acting really weird," Eli snapped. "Cut that out. Can't we have a civilized breakfast?" 

"I agree," said Ezra. "We have a pretty long day ahead of us. Fighting the Grysks, saving the galaxy, and other chores. You know?" 

The two Chiss glared openly at each other for a handful of heartbeats, before Thrass called off the staring match first with an indignant huff. 

He ought to be used to Thrawn defying convention wherever possible, but he was not about to let it slide  _ this time.  _ Oh, no. Not a chance. 

Thrawn needed  _ his  _ written permission before he was getting legally bonded to anyone. Thrass would take sardonic satisfaction in making him  _ work for it.  _

* * *

"Wait, you're serious?" Ezra quickened his steps to keep up with him. Winter had set its first thick coat over Copero's Base Zeta, and if one wished to avoid the discomfort of the cold, biting wind, they had best walk fast. "You need to give him  _ permission? _ " 

"Of course. It is my social responsibility." Thrass spared a glance at the young Jedi, who was dressed from head to toe in the thickest winter gear they could find on base. Human skin was  _ unnervingly  _ fickle. "How does it work in your culture?"

"I don't know?" Ezra looked uncertain, but he couldn't tell for sure under the fluffy hood that obstructed most of his face. "I suppose some planets have that. Not Lothal, though. Although I'm sure I would've had to ask for Hera's permission if I wanted to date someone, even." 

"Ah. Hera was your legal guardian, I take it." 

"Eh, I'm not sure anything the Ghost crew did was strictly legal," admitted Ezra with a grin. "But she took responsibility for us, and she was like a mom to me. I guess it boils down to trusting people who care about you to help you make important decisions?" 

Thrass nodded, pleased at the spot-on deduction. Bridger was smarter than the other Chiss gave him credit for. "It is. When a Chiss comes of age, they are appointed a legal guardian for matters concerning courtship and employment. Usually, it is a parent, but if a parent is unavailable, the task falls to the oldest child in the family." 

"Does the younger sibling get a say in it? What if your older brother is evil?"

Thrass snorted. "Well, that certainly can't have been a worry for  _ Thrawn.  _ If I am evil, he's the spawn of the devil." 

Ezra laughed. "Right. But what if you  _ were  _ evil?" 

"He could have appealed to the heads of his House for a reassignment." 

"But he'd still need a guardian?" 

"Yes. Well, usually. It is only socially appropriate." 

Ezra stepped onto a snow-covered ledge that ran along the sides of the ground, balancing precariously as he walked with Thrass. 

"You're really not going to give him permission?" 

"I never said that," Thrass pointed out. "I only said he'd have to  _ work for it.  _ Had he not asked that singularly important question in the  _ worst  _ possible setting you can  _ think of,  _ I wouldn't be so difficult about it. But here we are." 

Ezra snickered. "You sound  _ really  _ petty." 

"Ezra Bridger, pettiness is a requiem for life as a Syndic. One day, you will understand－" 

Thrass came to an abrupt halt in his tracks, stumbling over his feet and his words. Ezra hopped down off the ledge before he lost his balance. 

"Thrass?" 

The Chiss raised a cold hand to his face and pinched his brows tight together, squeezing his eyes shut. 

" _ Mother of Csilla's nine kriffing moons… _ "

Ezra tracked his eyes across the landscape, looking for the source of Thrass's sudden headache. 

He blinked. 

"Is that... _ they're a thing? _ "

"Apparently," Thrass grit out, grabbing him by the shoulders and directing him pointedly away from the ridiculous revelation not too far away from them. "Let's go back inside base and work on that plan of Thrawn's. This is  _ not  _ worth it."

Ezra didn't budge, craning around Thrass to get a better look at the odd pair. 

"But how did that happen? I thought the Aristorca hated humans!"

"Not  _ that _ human. May we leave?" 

"That is a whole lot of yellow. Kind of painful on the eyes. I don't think I've ever seen so much yellow in one place my entire life." 

Thrass forcibly steered him away. "Let's  _ go,  _ young Jedi." 

  
  



End file.
